Resurrected Arc
by Fireballmonkey
Summary: Jaune Arc was a soldier in the Great War, tasked with many missions by his General in secret. When his last one ends with his death, he wakes up eighty years after the war's end. But he's not the only war relic walking around, now. (Inspired by Sleepy Hollow) (Slightly Off-Cannon)
1. Prologue

**Year Nine of the Great War**

 **Vacuo**

 _Dearest Mother, it is with a joyful heart that I write to you on this day, the 25th of May in the year of 1876. As of today, the Valean Frontier Corps has retaken the town of Nanking. We are making admittedly slow progress in retaking Vacuo, but King David made a promise to personally lead the charge when we drive the Atlesians and Mistralis out. We just need to push through to Vacuo's capital. Perhaps soon this whole war will be over and humanity can get back to fighting our common enemy, the Grimm. We lost fifteen men to an ambush by a pack of Beowolves yesterday. Five of those men, boys, really, were under my command. I can't help but take the blame onto my shoulders. General Washington has laid down a strategy to slip across the Delta River at dawn and surprise the Atlesian artillery camp on the other side. I'm afraid I can't write any more details as it'd be a threat to security._

 _I'm confident we'll be victorious tomorrow, but now I must rest for the upcoming fight. With all my soul, I promise you that I will make it home to you and my sisters._

 _Second Lieutenant Jaune Arc, Valean 105th Infantry, Valean Frontier Corps._

The young man of eighteen put down his pen and sealed the letter in the envelope with a wax seal. The seal had a symbol of two crescents. He brought the parchment out to the weekly mail caravan. Just as he'd dropped the letter into the cart, a runner came up to him and saluted. "Lieutenant, sir, the General has asked for your company in his tent, sir."

The officer nodded and proceeded up the hill to the largest canvas structure on this side of the river. He dusted off his coat and adjusted the sword and pistols on his belt before heading inside.

General Washington's quarters was a whirlwind of organized chaos as messengers went in and out to all corners of the camp, reporting that everything was in order for the next day's invasion. The center table was cluttered with maps, messages, pens and vials of ink and the occasional stray pistol cartridge. The man himself was young for such a decorated serviceman, with brown hair tied back under a tricorn hat. His calculating silver eyes browsed a manuscript of some kind. Lieutenant Arc stood at attention and waited.

Without looking up, the man spoke, "Ah, lieutenant. I do hope you weren't busy, but these are times for urgency as you are well aware.

"No sir, just sending a letter home."

"I see. Your a good soldier, Lieutenant. I've trusted you with many secrets and missions few could withstand."

"Thank you, sir." Jaune Arc said.

"Well, then let's get down to business, shall we?" He asked and motioned to the maps on the table. The largest one was of the region they were in, with the Delta River cutting the desert in two like a darkened vein beneath the skin of a drunkard.

"As you know, we'll take Atlas's largest outpost this side of Sanus." Jaune nodded, "However, I have some news. Due to the enemy's artillery superiority, I fear my men will be gunned down before the first cock crows. That's where you'll come in." Washington brought his finger down to a small marsh, maybe two miles downriver. "I want you to lead a small group around the camp and cripple their defenses by destroying their howitzers. We can lend you the last of our explosives and three of the best men from our scouting regiment."

Jaune absorbed the news, then nodded again as they went over the details of the plan.

* * *

The 2nd Lieutenant exited the tent and yawned, he needed to reach his cot before he fell where he stood.

The blonde officer left the tent, loading one of his two revolvers as he walked. They were symbols of both his rank and skill. Their were relatively few guns to go around for Washinton's garrison, and most were reserved for cavalry, snipers or high-ranking officers. He took the OTs-38 pistol after fighting a Mistrali captain in a fight of swords. It made a fitting trophy and served him well over the past year. It had an effective range of 50 meters and the fired cases were kept in the cylinder, thus ensuring the absence of sound of ejected shells. The SP-4 cartridges employed a captive piston so there was no flash or loud report upon discharge.

His other gun was a Colt Model 1848 Percussion Army Revolver. It was a .44 caliber revolver designed by the legendary Samuel Colt for the Army's Regiment of Mounted Riflemen. The revolver was also issued to the Mistrali Army's "Dragoon" Regiments. This revolver was designed as a solution to numerous problems encountered with the old Walker Colts. Although it was introduced after the war had started, it became popular among civilians and officers during the 1850s and 1860s, and was also used during the battle of Fort Castle. Jaune had taken it off a specific Atlesian mercenary who enjoyed decapitating prisoners and enemy soldiers with a naval broad-ax lined with fire dust.

He holstered both guns and adjusted Crocea Mors, his arming sword and shield. Although, no one would guess it held a shield as it was the first of it's breed; a mechashifting weapon. The sheath could expand into a heater shield and even latch on to the blade itself, expanding the arming sword into a heavier, two-handed broadsword.

It was around 0300 hours and he needed to brief his new squad. They were waiting for him outside the munitions building, basically a box of wood and extra thick canvas. The three men appeared... questionable, at best.

Joshua Glas, a young coyote faunus that was said to be the best shot in the scout regiment, was looking directly down the barrel of a .50 caliber bolt-action rifle. Yury Ivanovich, dressed in a light grey trench coat and ushanka hat (in the **_desert_** ) was cleaning his spectacles with his machine-gun perched precariously on his lap as he sat down on a very large cannon shell. The last man, Aiden Walker, was a heavy-set fellow in a slouch hat and metal cuirass sharpened an ax while sitting on a log and smoking. These were the men he had to work with. How grand.

The trio saw his approach and got up, standing at attention. "Corporals Glas and Walker, Sergeant Ivanovich. I'm Lieutenant Jaune Arc. I'll be leading this group on a mission straight from General Washington. Before the invasion starts, we're going down the Delta River, crossing it and making our way back up to the Atlesian camp. Once there, we'll sneak in and set off charges at their munitions cache and artillery guns. Load up with minimal food and water and plenty of ammo. We move out in ninety minutes. Ivanovich will carry the dynamite while we cover him. Glas'll take the rear and he and I will carry flare guns for signaling while I lead in front, Walker will be in between and carry extra supplies."

"Yes sir." They all replied.

* * *

At approximately 0500, they departed the camp and ran down the shore, crossing the wet marsh and legging it back. They were two hundred meters outside the camp when they stopped at a clump of dead trees on a sandstone ridge. Glas kneeled and peered through the M84 scope while Ivanovich readied the explosives.

Jaune stood a few feet from the rest of his men and reached under his coat to grab the necklace his mother had given him. It was a gold talisman depicting an eagle, holding a flintlock pistol in one talon and a trident in the other. He pressed his lips to it stuffed it back underneath his coat as the marksman reported his findings.

"LT, we got at least fifty infantry men in the main camp, groups of four making patrol rounds every five minutes. I can see the howitzers. There's three pointing towards the river with two pointing upriver and two pointing down. They've got piles on piles of 120mm shells. A well-placed stick'a that fire dust'll send 'em up in flames."

"Got it. Glas, find the best vantage point you can and cover us as we move in." Jaune ordered. Joshua nodded and attached the makeshift silencer to the barrel of his rifle. It was basically an old canteen filled with cloth packing and painted black with shoeshine.

Jaune pulled out his OTs-38 and a trench knife. They crouch-ran under the cover of twilight fog and found a gap in the hodgepodge walls that surrounded the camps perimeter.

They suddenly stopped and crouched when they heard another patrol coming. Jaune faced the ridge wear his sniper was positioned and used hand signals.

The four-man patrol was armed with Atlesian FG-42's and rather simple shortswords. The team waited for Glas to take out the first guard, then Jaune took out two with his pistol and Walker decapitated the last with his ax.

After hiding the bodies as best they could, they slipped passed the walls and made their way to the guns. The closest were the ones pointing down the river, Yury planted two charges on the guns and one near a pile of ammunition. He fed the charging cable back to a safe distance beyond the walls and they continued on, planning to thread all the cables to one trigger and blow the charges once a safe distance away.

Things didn't go that way as they ran into a young private holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He was also right next to an alarm bell. The three stopped with baited breath, Jaune's pistol level at the boy's chest.

The boy looked from them to the bell then back again before making up his mind. They were out of Glas's line of sight so they could only hope the shot from Jaune would knock him back enough to miss the bell. He fired as the private broke for the bronze alarm, and they all cringed when his body twisted in place once the bullet reached his chest, falling and his head striking the bell's rim.

Jaune's senses shut down for a moment, he felt stuck in place as the bell swung and the ringer struck the shell with a church-like ' _gong'_. They immediately sprinted for the next guns as soldiers were roused from the bell, other guardsmen ringing their alarms in kind. Seeing no other options, they decided the guns pointing to the river were now the main mission and Yury readied the explosives. He merely kept a grenade in one hand and fired from the hip with his machine-gun. They planned on throwing the grenade, inside the explosives satchel at the guns when they reached them and sprint back to their exit, blowing the rest of the charges on the way out.

As they ran, both Jaune and Joshua fired their flares, praying that the General would see it and kick the attack into action. They made their way through a trench and found the howitzers. Jaune took out Crocea Mors and went on the offensive, covering Yury with Corporal Walker while Joshua kept laying down cover fire.

When his pistols ran dry, he grabbed his sheath and hit the button on the end, expanding it to its shield form with his family crest emblazoned on the front. The Arc crescent moons shone in gold against the white background as he blocked a downward strike from a bayonet and stabbed a soldier in the abdomen. He kicked the man's body off his blade and kept up the heat. "Ivanovich! How're we doing with the explosives?!" He ducked under a shotgun blast and threw his trench knife into the gunner's neck.

He turned to see Sergeant Yury Ivanovich lying on a pile of artillery shells, multiple bullet holes punctured through his chest. A trickle of blood fell from his lips as his head hung limp.

Jaune cursed and grabbed his comrade's grenade before stuffing it into the satchel and throwing it at one of the guns. Not waiting another second, he sprinted back through the trench he came. The explosion was enough to make him stumble as a wave of heat washed over that section of the camp. Several smaller explosions went of as the fire from the first ignited artillery cases around it. He didn't know where Walker was, he figured he'd fallen in combat. The lieutenant stopped in his tracks when he saw Joshua Glas strike an Atlesian with the butt of his rifle and shoot him in the stomach.

He quickly raked the bolt back and swiveled in Jaune's direction. The blonde held up his hands to stop him before the gun went off, the .50 cal flying past his head and pulverizing the head of a soldier behind him. Jaune grabbed Glas and yanked him into cover. They took a small break to reload their guns and catch their breath.

"You could've killed me, you know." Jaune told his squadmate. "Yeah. But I didn't." Joshua replied with a chuckle. As his adrenaline lowered, Jaune felt a tingling pain in his shoulder and reached back to feel warm wetness. Withdrawing his fingers into view, he saw blood. He cursed.

"You alright, boss?"

"Yeah... Probably. I think it's just a pistol round and it went through clean. Did you see any sign of Washington's forces?"

"Oh yeah, the attacks in full swing. The rowboats had just landed when I came into the camp." Joshua said as he chambered a fresh set of bullets into his gun.

"Alright, we'll make our way out and blow the second set of explosives-"

"Oh, I already did that when I came down. Figured we were past the point of no return when the bells went off." Glas added. Jaune absorbed that information. "Well, considering that I'm wounded and you're not exactly equipped for CQC... Tactical retreat?"

Joshua grinned at the prospect of returning to the friendly side of the river, "Tactical retreat."

* * *

"This was a bad idea." Joshua said as he slung Jaune's arm over his shoulder and they ran as a three-legged man. The 2nd lieutenant had caught some shrapnel to the leg from a stray fragmentation grenade after they decided it'd be quickest to go straight to the riverbank.

The sniper had also taken a rifle round to the arm, but he managed. Jaune's vision was turning hazing but he figured it was fatigue after running around an enemy outpost in the desert heat. He looked down at his leg to see it spraying blood, the sand beneath their feet soaking it up like a sponge. "Oh no." Jaune muttered. "Stop. Set me down." Joshua did as ordered, letting Jaune catch his breath in the shade of a trench wall.

His breath hitched and he felt a lump shoot into his throat. Glas saw the profuse bleeding and tried to put pressure on it, removing one of the empty bandoliers he used for rifle rounds and tying it around his CO's thigh. Jaune's face grew pale, his breathing was getting shallow, "You know, I once met this priest in Vale. He said that God forgives soldiers, not commanders. You think that's true, Glas?"

Joshua humored the bleeding man, "I wouldn't know, sir."

"I think it makes sense. Officers command soldiers to fight, kill and die and the soldiers have to follow orders or they'll go to jail." Joshua tried to halt the flow of blood, but it was too late. His lieutenant would bleed out in minutes and die here. "How old are you, Corporal?"

"Sixteen, sir."

"Really? Damn, and I thought I was young for a soldier."

"There was a draft. Guess they didn't care if a few underage faunus slipped through the cracks." Joshua said.

"Where're you from?" The lieutenant asked, taking a swig from his canteen.

"Canaan." The corporal looked through his pack for bandages and morphine.

"...I hate this war, Glas."

"So do I, sir." He answered as he wiped some sweat from his forehead. "I don't wanna die yet." Glas stopped and looked him in the eye, his green orbs losing hope. With his strength ebbing away, Jaune reached under his shirt and grabbed his mother's necklace. "My mom's name is Juniper Arc. She lives in Vale and she's a widow with seven... well, I guess it'll be six children, soon enough. Find her for me." He grabbed Joshua's hand and pressed the bit of gold into it.

The marksman took a deep breath. "I will, sir. I promise." His green eyes suddenly filled with determination when he heard footsteps. It sounded like the chatter of Valean troops. He quickly ran over and flagged them down, "Hey! Hey! I've got a wounded officer over here!"

The boy's words were drowned out to Jaune as his life force drained from the holes in his leg. His head lowered as Joshua and the men approached him. He assumed the fighting had died down. If they were Valean troops, that must mean they won. "D-did we win, Glas?" He saw a head of dirty brown hair and green eyes look down on him as the men hoisted him onto a stretcher. "Yes, sir. We won."

* * *

Following the battle of Camp Luna, the rest of the day was spent gathering wounded and dead. Washington ordered all bodies accounted for, Valean and Atlesian. The few prisoners taken were treated with respect under Washington's orders.

Jaune Arc's group was soon named Fireteam Beacon since they acted as the beacon that started the attack. That battle ended up being a turning point in the Vacuo Campaign. The Valean Frontier Corps pushed through for the rest of the army and linked up with their allies on western Vacuo, where they pushed the Atlesian and Mistrali forces back.

Lieutenant Jaune Arc passed away shortly after the success of his mission. He, Yury Ivanovich and Aiden Walker were given Silver Stars and Purple Hearts and promoted to First Lieutenant, Sergeant First Class and Staff Sergeant, respectfully. Joshua Glass was honorably discharged due to injuries following a promotion to Specialist and being awarded with the Bronze Star and Purple Heart. He wore them with pride.

Following the end of The War and the peace King David of Vale brought, Joshua Glas was approached with an offer to teach marksmanship at Vale's huntsman academy, Beacon. He took it, met another teacher and married her. He lived a long life, saw his child grow up, grandchildren and great grandchildren grow.

Sixty three years after the end of the Great War, an older Joshua Glas sat in a rocking chair on the porch of his family's house in Menagerie. In his arms, swaddled in an old brown jacket was a little baby boy, his green eyes looked up at his wrinkled face. His granddaughter, Donn, told him that her son looked just like him. The old man held Ezekiel Glas in his arms and told him a story of how the huntsman academy of Beacon got its name.

* * *

First Lieutenant Jaune Arc's body was brought back to Vale. It was a few dozen kilometers outside the capital when the convoy escorting the cartful of bodies was attacked by Grimm. They got away with few casualties, but by a stroke of bad fortune. A body was knocked off the wagon and fell to the side of the road.

As it fell, it was shaken loose from its wrappings and settled in a divot between some trees. His effects, including his weapons, had been wrapped up with him. Most had fallen off at random as the body fell, but the weapons stayed, as if glued into their holsters and sheath.

The body remained there to this day, eighty years later.

* * *

 **Alright, new story's up! I realize I've done a slow job of updating the other stories, but I've got a few other unpublished pieces I'll release soon, so look out!**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	2. Chapter 1: Resurrection

Qrow Branwen sipped from his flask as he walked along the road. He'd been sent by Ozpin to investigate a series of unsolved homicides starting in the Hudson Valley, west of Vale that moved toward the city. Oz seemed to think the Queen was going on another recruitment run.

He was walking into town when he noticed a farm, an awful lot of noise was something from the barn. Maybe Grimm had the horses spooked. The huntsman decided to check it out. At the very least, maybe he'd meet a cute farm girl- A _legal one_ , mind you.

The man kept his sword at the ready as he walked through the field and onto the dusty driveway. That's when he saw the truck. It was a small pickup and the driver's side door was wide open. "Hello there?" He called out cautiously.

Upon getting closer, he saw a shotgun lying on the ground, pointing away from the door. There were two spent shell casings and a lot of blood on the ground. The blood led to the house.

The farmer's head was gone. That was what stuck out. It was a headless corpse on the staircase leading to the house's back door. Qrow felt a bit sick. He'd seen worse before, but this? On a little farm in the country? He was about to leave and find the closest sheriff when he heard the horses baying. He quietly ran over and opened the large wooden door. Inside, a brown mare bucked at his presence, but he managed to calm it down some. Not knowing what to expect, he took out Reaper in its sword form and walked forward past a tanning station.

As he moved around it, he saw... A white stallion. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as the horse snorted. However, the huntsman's guard went back up when he heard footsteps, and a figure walked into the sliver of moonlight in the center of the stable.

"What in Monty's name..." The man muttered. Facing him was a man in an old red coat, adorned with what looked like gold military pauldrons and a white buttoned shirt under it. It looked like an old Atlesian Redcoat uniform he'd seen at a museum he took his nieces to. Thing was, this guy didn't have a head. Also, he had a large broad-ax in his hands, the blade glowed a menacing orange. He held out his sword, "Alright guy, I don't get the gimmick, but why don't you put the ax down before-"

The headless man swung the weapon downwards, forcing Qrow to move to the side. With great speed, he brought his sword up only to have it be hooked by the ax blade. He held on as the headless man swung him around, dislodging Qrow's sword from its hook. The huntsman landed in a three point crouch before being pushed back again. They continued like this for a while, and his opponent was skilled for someone missing four of his five senses.

They eventually wound up in front of the barn when Qrow found an opening. He swung upwards with his sword before the blade folded outward and the shotgun barrel pointed right at the ax-wielder's chest. Qrow fired, the man flew back into the barn and Qrow heard the crashing of wood. He took a moment to collect himself before approaching the building once more, only to dive out of the way as the man rode past on the white horse. He stopped on his horse and it whinnied while bucking up on its hind legs. A flash of lightening ignited the sky and Qrow could see it all clearly. He didn't believe it, but he wasn't hallucinating before.

No head. Just an empty space where it should be. The man held his axe in one hand, the sleeve of his coat riding up his arm and revealing some sort of scar or brand in the shape of a bow and arrow on the back of his hand. And was it him or were the horse's eyes glowing red like a Grimm?

Before Qrow could recover from his shock, the man rode off into the night, leaving him on his ass with an itch for something that'd kill his liver.

* * *

Outside of that town, on the side of a road, a patch of moss and foliage was displaced as a hand shot through the dirt. It clawed at the ground as it was joined by its twin. The man the hands were attached to slowly crawled out of the forest floor and looked around, confused, shocked and dreadfully thirsty. He could also vaguely hear a horse galloping away from him. He stumbled through the fog and trees until he came upon a waterfall, where he drank to his heart's content.

Once his mind was less clouded by dehydration, he sat and tried to get his bearings. "Alright... Alright alright alright. Your name is Jaune Arc. You are a Lieutenant - a Second Lieutenant in the 105th infantry of the Valean Frontier Corps. You serve under General George Washington and he under King David of the kingdom of Vale. We were taking Camp Luna across the Delta River when... something happened." He was a bit fuzzy on the details.

Judging by the lush shrubbery around him, he wasn't in Vacuo. Maybe he was transported back to Vale to be treated when something went wrong.

He wiped his hands on his dark brown coat and checked his supplies. A compass and a paper map, which seemed to have crumbled due to aging. His pistols and sword were in serviceable condition thanks to the grey dust most weapons were lined with to prevent corrosion.

In his bag there was a journal, pen and ink jar. A box of matches, cigarettes. He'd never been much of a smoker, but he sometimes managed to trade them for extra rations. He had maybe two full cylinders worth of bullets for his pistols, no food, his canteen had just been filled from the waterfall. "Alright, Jaune. You've been in worse situations. Remember that summer in the Valean swamps? You couldn't breath without getting bit by a mosquito... Oh god, now I'm talking to myself."

Jaune cleaned himself and his gear as best he could in the water and tied his hair back with a small ribbon he usually used to keep his journal closed. His coat was a bit tattered, but he didn't mind. His beige pants were wrinkled and dirty, his dark blue shirt in the same condition. He had a single bandolier under his coat going over his left shoulder for his pistol rounds and an empty, beaded knife sheath. He adjusted his weapons belt and set off East. That was usually friendly territory, after all.

The lieutenant made off through the woods, wary of any Grimm. The forest itself was quite beautiful in the early morning fog. The Autumn Maiden would have a ball here. He remembered meeting her and her sister, Spring, about three years back when they used their abilities at one of the field hospitals.

It was like watching an angel perform miracles. He stopped when he sensed footprints. They sounded punctual, not muffled by the dirt of the forest floor. He followed the sound quietly, his OTs-38 Stechkin in his hands.

When he located the source, he was very perplexed. The figure wore a tattered, red cape, his leather shoes falling upon a road made of some sort of flat rock. The cobblestone streets of Vale were not as smooth. The man paused and spun quickly before taking out some sort of large sword. The wary look in his eyes told Jaune of his experience.

"Who the hell're you?" He asked. Jaune kept his gun level with his chest. "Name and rank withheld as per protocol when dealing with unknown subjects."

"What, you some kind of military boy scout?"

Jaune thought a moment, "Well, I'm in the military, some may consider me a boy due to my age and I've been called upon to perform the duties of a scout. So yes. Now, I'm afraid I may have been removed from my unit. Tell me, how far are we from Camp Luna?"

The man looked genuinely confused, "Camp what?"

"Camp Luna, on the Delta River. I was stationed there, but appear to have been transferred away due to my injuries-"

"Look, kid, I don't have time to cosplay soldiers or whatever. I've already had to deal with a guy in a redcoat costume."

"A Redcoat? Here?" Jaune asked. This wasn't good news. Could this mean that the Vacuo Campaign failed and Atlas captured Vale?

"Yeah, some guy with a branded hand on a horse-"

Jaune stiffened, "A branded hand? Did it take the shape of a drawn bow by any chance? And did he carry a broad-ax?" He asked as he holstered his weapon.

"Yeah." The older man replied, "How'd you know? When's the last time you saw him?"

The blonde cursed and paced around until he answered, "When I cut off his head."

* * *

The lieutenant and the huntsman had made their way to a settlement with a bar, in which they took a table in the corner where they couldn't be bothered. "So, start from the beginning. Can you tell me your name, kid?" Qrow asked as he drank. First he's fighting a headless redcoat, now he's playing babysitter.

The blonde soldier sighed, no point hiding it, "Second Lieutenant Jaune Arc, One Hundred and First Infantry, Valean Frontier Corps."

"...Right. Do you have anyone you can call? Parents? Siblings?"

"Well, my father died in service when I was young, but my mother and sisters lived in Vale last time I wrote to them. Their names are Juniper, Monica, Rose, Amelie, Elizabeth, Viola and Abigail."

"That's a lot of sisters."

"Well, I had another, Deandra, but we lost her to pneumonia when she was a babe." He said sadly. Qrow sat back, "So, you say you woke up in the woods-"

"Buried."

"-Buried, right, with nothing but the clothes on your back and those old weapons?"

"Yes. Also, old? The Atlesian Colt 1848 and OTs-38 Stechkin revolvers are some of the newest guns issued to the armies. Not to mention Crocea Mors. Its the first of its kind."

"First of its kind?"

"A mechashifting weapon. One that can transform its very structure in a mechanized fashion until it takes another form. The sheathe can expand into a heater shield."

"Wait you're saying that your sword and shield, Crocea Mors, is the first mechashifting weapon to be made?"

He nodded smuggly, the cocky little shit. "Hang on, I need to make a call."

"A call? To whom, that lady of the night that you stared at on the way in here?"

"Just... stay put. Have a drink." Qrow ordered, "Maybe it'll wash away some of the crazy around here." He added softly.

...

He made his way into the empty bathroom and blocked the door with a trashcan. Qrow grabbed his scroll and phoned Ozpin.

"Qrow, do you have anything to report on our headless horseman?"

"First off, shitty name, Oz. Second shit gets weirder." The huntsman could tell he had the old man's attention. "Go on."

"Well, after tracking that thing down for a while, I ran into a kid who not only claims to have been the one to cut off his head, but he also claims that his name is Jaune Arc, that his sword, Crocea Mors, is the first mechashifting weapon ever and that he was part of a military unit from the Great War."

"I see, and how old is this man?"

"Not man, Oz. The kids no older than my niece." He answered. Ozpin paused, "I see. Bring him in as fast as you can. I'd like to speak to him myself."

"You sure it's worth the time?" Qrow asked, but Ozpin had hung up. "Good to speak to you, too." The huntsman muttered. He wondered how to get Captain Crazy to come with him to Vale, when he heard some commotion from the bar. He turned the corner to see Jaune jump off a table and pile drive a fat guy with beer drenched over his shirt. Qrow watched the spectacle with interest as Jaune fended off three other barflies bare-handed and knocked them out.

He stumbled over to Qrow, burped and then passed out. Qrow shrugged and took a swig from his flask, "Makes my job easier." He picked the boy up, making sure to not leave anything behind and carried him off.

* * *

 **Review!**


	3. Chapter 2: Interrogation

Jaune woke up in a small room, a metal table with a chair on either side. he sat in one, facing the only door. One wall had a very large, rectangular mirror and in the top corner he could see some kind of black box with a small glass lense and blinking red light.

On the table was another, larger black box with several dials and buttons and blinking lights on it. Connected to it was a hose that ran to some kind of leather cuff wrapped around his right bicep.

He tried to stand, only to find he'd been shackled to one of the table legs. His coat was folded on the table, his effects and weapons were gone. He started to panic, never being a fan of small rooms. "Hello! Anyone!" He kicked the table's leg, but it wouldn't budge. He stopped when the door opened and in stepped a silver haired man in a black and green suit with a cane. He carried some sort of glass screen with white and gold trimmings.

"Who the hell are you? What is this infernal device you've strapped me to against my will?!"

"That is a polygraph machine. I will be asking you questions and it will tell me if you are lying or telling the truth." He answered as he sat down and adjusted his spectacles.

"The machine knows...?" Jaune asked in disbelief, "What the hell kind of a place is this? By what right are you holding me against my will and what on Remnant is _that_?" He questioned as he looked towards the blinking box in the corner of the ceiling.

"You are being held here, Mr. Arc, because I have many questions to ask you." The older man told him calmly. Jaune could tell that was all he'd get out of the man, so he decided to play along. For now.

"And I you, Mister..."

"Ozpin. Professor Ozpin. I'm the Headmaster of Beacon Academy."

"Beacon Academy? I've never heard of such an institution."

The Professor sat and steepled his fingers, "Really? Most have at least heard of the huntsman academies by name."

"...Huntsman... Yes, I believe Mr. Qrow gave himself a similar title. You fight the Creatures of Grimm, correct?"

"That's part of our duty, but yes. So, according to Qrow, you've had quite the journey. I want to start with you telling me your full name and where you're from."

The blonde remained silent. Ozpin tried again, "I cannot force you to take this test, but if you cooperate, I may be able to get you out of here quicker."

Jaune nodded, "Jaune Ichabod Arc. I was a history student at Mertant College and Oxford before being enlisted into the Valean Frontier Corps and sent off to fight against the invading Mistrali and Atlesian forces in Eastern Vale. After many months of service, I came under the command of General Washington in the 105th infantry."

"... Alright. I want us to try an... exercise, if you will. I'm going to say a name or word, and you tell me the first thing that pops into your head."

"Alright, simple enough." Jaune motioned for the Headmaster to continue.

"Remnant."

"World."

"Kingdom,"

"Vale."

"Job,"

"Soldier."

Ozpin tapped the glass screen in multiple places. "Home,"

"Vale."

"Grimm."

"Enemy."

Ozpin: "Vale,"

Jaune: "Home."

"Vacuo."

"Ally."

"Atlas,"

"Enemy." Ozpin tapped the screen some more. "Mistral."

"Enemy.

"Camp."

"Luna."

"Interesting..."

"Inter- Wait, are we still doing the exercise?"

"One moment, Mr. Arc." Ozpin's eyes scanned the glass over and over again as if reading a book. He looked back at him, "General."

"Washington."

Ozpin: "Arc."

Jaune: "Family."

Ozpin: "Sword."

Jaune: "Shield."

Ozpin: "Yellow."

Jaune: "Death."

Ozpin: "...Joshua."

Jaune: "Glas."

Ozpin's eyes narrowed and he typed some more on his scroll. "If you wouldn't mind, how do you know the name Joshua Glas?"

Jaune hesitated, "He briefly served under me on my last mission. The other two men in my command, unfortunately, didn't make it out alive. I was shot in the back and took quite the load of shrapnel to my left leg. If I recall correctly, the Corporal was shot in the arm by a rifleman."

"I see. Who were the other two men under your command?"

"Yury Ivanovich and Aiden Walker."

"And what was your mission?"

More hesitation. "Mr. Arc, if we don't know the details, we can't help you. Please." Ozpin asked sincerely. Jaune relented, "We were tasked by General Washington himself with destroying Atlesian artillery in Camp Luna. We were supposed to sneak in, plant charges, sneak out and blow them prior to the attack we launched. That was the plan, anyway. We were found out after the first charges were set and we made haste towards the main guns.

"Sergeant Ivanovich was gunned down before he could set them, so I put together a short-fused rig and blew the guns. I couldn't find Corporal Walker, so I retreated until I found Corporal Glas, who had come into the camp, disobeying my orders. He ended up saving my life. We broke for the riverbank and that's when we took the brunt of our injuries. An artery in my leg was severed and I was bleeding heavily when Glas found a medical team. Then... I-I can't recall what happened exactly." Jaune's foot bounced up and down as he recounted his last battle.

"The next thing I know, I'm half-buried in the middle of nowhere, ill-equipped and parched." He added.

Ozpin sat back, not knowing what to think. Much to Jaune's shock, the glass screen shrunk in the Professor's hand until it was the size of his hand and he brought it to his ear. "Glynda, could you bring the things I asked for in?"

"Why does everyone seem so interested in those pieces of glass?" Jaune asked.

Before he could get an answer, a blonde woman in a blouse and some kind of tight-fitting skirt walked in. She was beautiful, but clearly had no sense of modesty. She placed a thick, leather-bound book on the table and left, eyeing Jaune judgmentally.

"Who was that woman?"

"Glynda Goodwitch, my assistant and another Professor at Beacon." Ozpin told him. Jaune chuckled, "A woman professor. Sure."

Ozpin opened the book and scrolled through it, "If I recall, The only living Arcs were a family: a mother, six daughters and one son."

"Seven daughters." Jaune muttered.

"Pardon?" Jaune sighed, "My mother had a seventh daughter, Deandra. She died a month later due to sickness. It's what inspired my eldest sister, Monica, to become a doctor."

Ozpin looked through the book, "Yes, Monica Arc went on to found Vale's First Free Clinic. It grew into the largest hospital in the city."

"What do you mean went on? Monica should still be in the field. She volunteered to be a medic since she wasn't allowed to enlist." Jaune asked, he was getting more questions than answers here.

"No. Monica Arc founded the hospital with Sierra Harvest-"

"The Fall Maiden." Jaune interjected.

"Pardon?"

"Sierra Harvest is the Fall Maiden. I first witnessed her use her abilities to feed a triage hospital for a month. She and her sister were in Arroyo only a few years ago."

"You know about the maidens." Ozpin clarified. "Yes. Is that shocking to you? I suppose most would not believe in them unless they see their power for themselves. I myself was skeptical until Sierra grew an entire orange tree in mere seconds. She cured many cases of scurvy that day." He told him.

Ozpin's demeanor grew more serious. "Alright, Mr. Arc. I'll return shortly." He left without another word, leaving Jaune in silence again.

...

"Well, he's not lying. The polygraph was flat." Ozpin said as he stepped into other side of the interrogation room. Glynda and Qrow had watched them through the one-way mirror, perplexed and slightly annoyed with the boy.

"So he's crazy, then." Qrow said as he drank from his flask.

"I'm not sure. You said it yourself that he described your horseman in perfect detail, right down to the brand. He then went on to recount Fireteam Beacon's only mission verbatim and knew about Juniper Arc's seventh daughter."

"So, what do you want to do with 'em?" Qrow asked.

Ozpin thought a moment, "Well, we can't simply leave him in a psych ward or let him back out into the wilds."

"So, what, you'll enroll him as another one of your pet projects?" Qrow asked sarcastically. Ozpin was silent, until: "That's _exactly_ what I'll do."

"Come again?"

"He's our only lead on a headless serial killer and claims to have lived and fought during the Great War, he has no aura. He needs to be watched carefully. I'm honestly surprised, Qrow. Your protesting this more than Ms. Rose."

"Okay, those were _very_ simple circumstances, Oz."

The silver-haired man waved him off. "Whatever the case, I want to question him more. If he is who he says he is, then the boy's been dead for eighty one years."

...

Jaune stopped banging his head on the table when the Headmaster stepped back in, "So, Mr. Arc. I wanted to ask you about the Horseman."

"Horseman?" More confusion. "Sorry, the man without a head that you described in perfect detail. Would you admit to cutting off his head?"

"No."

"No?"

"First I shot him, and he rose back up. Beheading him seemed the next logical step. It was a year or so ago, back when the frontlines were in western Vale, General Washington tasked me with the assassination of a nameless Mercenary, wielding an ax lined with fire Dust and marked by a brand on his right hand. I encountered him at the battle of Hudson Valley and shot him off his horse. He got up, nearly cut me in twain, and I cut his head off with my sword."

"I see." Ozpin said flatly.

"You don't believe me." Jaune stated. He unbuttoned his shirt, "The Horseman, as you insist on calling him, cut a deep gash across my chest. It required ten stitches and a week of my consciousness. The medics had sedated me with opium to numb the pain." He opened his blue shirt to reveal a long scar that ran from under his left collar bone to just past his sternum.

Ozpin looked over his scar, also noticing the exit wound of a bullet on Jaune's right shoulder. The Headmaster put the book down in front of Jaune and opened it. It was a sort of familial history. It had his family crest on it. "What is this?" He demanded.

"Open the book to the marked page, Mr. Arc." He did so, and wished he hadn't.

 _Juniper Arc: 54, Born: 1826, Died: 1882, CoD: Heart Attack_

 _Monica Arc: 78, Born: 1852, Died: 1930, CoD: Natural Causes_

 _Rose Arc: 35, Born: 1853, Died: 1888, CoD: Killed in Action_

 _Amelie Arc: 42, Born: 1854, Died: 1896, CoD: Killed in Action_

 _Elizabeth Arc: 46, Born: 1854, Died: 1900, CoD: Killed in Action_

 _Viola Arc: 84, Born: 1864, Died: 1948, CoD: Heart Attack_

 _Abigail Arc: 70, Born: 1866, Died: 1939, CoD: Lung Cancer_

 _Deandra Arc: 1 Month, Born: 1870, Died: 1870, CoD: Pneumonia_

 _Jaune Arc: 18, Born: 1858, Died: 1876, CoD: Killed in Action_

Jaune read and reread every single name. "Why are you showing me this?"

"To show you that's it is not 1876. Vale and Vacuo won The War, the King of Vale was the last king ever and He founded the Huntsman Academies. The Great War ended over eighty years ago, Mr. Arc."

"Why did they die so young? How could they die in action? Women aren't... _weren't_ allowed to enlist." He muttered.

"They became some of Beacon's first Huntresses. They fought valiantly and died with honor. The same can be said about Jaune Arc." Ozpin said calmly.

"But _I_ am Jaune Arc." The young man's hands clenched into fists.

"I know. I believe that you are who you say you are."

That kind of shocked Jaune, "Why?" Ozpin withdrew the book and closed it. "Believe it or not, stranger things have happened, _Lieutenant_."

"Second Lieutenant." He corrected **(Note: Jaune pronounces lieutenant as "lef-tenant)** , "I'm sorry. Force of habit."

"No, it's actually First Lieutenant. It seems you were promoted after the success of Fireteam Beacon's mission."

"Fireteam Beacon?" Jaune questioned.

"Yes. General Washington gave your team that name after the Battle of Camp Luna. It seemed fitting, since you signaled the attack. But back to the matter at hand. I believe this horseman and you are connected."

Jaune leaned back and crossed his arms, "That makes sense, both our... 'resurrections' were on the same day, more or less. When I killed him and I started losing consciousness, we fell next to each other and I saw our blood merge. Perhaps we were bonded somehow. I shot him, he cut me, I cut his head off. Stranger things have happened."

"Perhaps. But there are a great deal of things I need to explain to you if we are to make this situation work."

...

Ozpin divulged the surface of he, Qrow and Glynda's situation with the maidens. He told him that one of them had been attacked by an unknown threat and that the perpetrators did not work alone. The perpetrators also had access to an unknown amount of resources and even, possibly, abilities on the level of the maidens. When they discussed how Jaune Arc could be among the living once again, they were at a loss.

The Headmaster hypothesized that the current Fall Maiden's attackers could have had something to do with the Horseman, and he was dragged back with him.

He also explained some things about the current world: the Huntsmen, Grimm, the SDC, the White Fang. Qrow especially had fun watching him try and figure out a Scroll and the internet.

When they were done, Jaune asked what happened next.

"You'll wait for the semester to start and attend Beacon Academy as one of my students. I trust you have a grasp on how the school systems work?" The Professor questioned.

"I studied history at Oxford University for two years in Mistral before citizens from Sanus were kicked out." Jaune answered, "But where will I be staying until then?"

Ozpin spoke, "You may use one of the empty dorm rooms until then. We can get you situated and... adjusted in the mean time."

* * *

 **Outskirts of Vale**

 **Maple Residents**

Sergeant Dwight Maple entered his one bedroom home in Vale. He put his keys on the hook above his computer desk and placed his badge and holstered sidearm on the desk. He turned around to see something unusual. His gun locker was open, shotgun shells and rifle rounds spilled out and onto the tile floor.

He grabbed his pistol and brought the slide back. "Hello? If anyone's in here, know that I am a police officer and am armed. Come into the living room with your hands up and we can keep this peaceful.

Slowly walking over the shag carpet toward his bedroom, he swiveled on his heel when he heard a footstep. His eyes widened and he nearly dropped his gun when he saw the...thing. It had the body of a man, but there was no head on its shoulders. A chest rig with dozens of shotgun shells and his .357 magnum covered the ragged, red coat he wore, his white pants were dirt-stained and he had several guns on him. The Sergeant's Colt M4 carbine with a high capacity magazine was in his left hand, Maple's stockless Mossberg 500 was slung over the thing's shoulder. On top of all that, he had a big ax in his right hand, the blade glowing a fiery orange.

The Sergeant tried to keep his bearings as he pointed his gun at it, "P-put the weapons down n-" The officer never finished as the thing, with one effortless throw, launched the ax forward, it spun through the air and sliced through the man's neck, the wound cauterized as the hot blade separated his head from his body.

* * *

 **So, Jaune gets questioned by Oz and the rest of Team Maidens and the Horseman arrives in Vale. What could happen next?**

 **Remember to leave reviews and check out my other stories.**

 **If you want.**

 **Also, two hundred followers in under a week?! Holy Shit! Thank you.**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	4. Chapter 3: Adjustments

**So, Chapter 4. I realize that some of things in RWBY's canon have been tweaked for the Great War parts, like:**

 **1.) Mantle already being Atlas-I honestly just forgot that the kingdom wasn't named Atlas yet.**

 **2.) The whole male-only military-I put that in to give the Great War era a more Revolutionary War feeling, further tying in the elements from Sleepy Hollow. It'll also just give Zombie-Jaune one more thing to deal with in the 'future'.**

 **Hopefully this clears some stuff up. Have fun reading!**

* * *

Professor Goodwitch showed Jaune to his quarters at Beacon. The school itself was a sight to behold, like a castle in the old storybooks he'd read to his sisters at night. The dormitories held four beds each, with a small area for cooking, though Jaune recognized little of the "appliances" as the Professor called them. She seemed very interested in how he tried to figure them out.

She showed him the wondrous advances in technology: Running water, electricity, showers, the electric hair dryer. He recalled Benjamin Franklin share with him his plans for a Dust-powered lantern.

"You met Benjamin Franklin?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "Indeed. He took me to a brothel where we soon became inebriated. He found me suitable company in which to divulge some of his technological ideas."

The teacher rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed, "That's impossible."

"Oh really? Well that is just wonderful! Thank you for the news, because here I was under the impression that I'd awoken in the future and that my family has been dead for decades! I feel so blessed that everything I'm seeing and hearing and feeling and touching is impossible, because that can only mean that it isn't actually happening!"

Once finished with his tirade, he removed his coat and set it one his bed. Reaching into his satchel, Jaune took out a needle and thread and started making repairs to the garment.

Several of the pockets wear tearing off and the tears at the bottom were very noticeable. Routine maintenance was something every soldier learned within the first week of training. He wished he could clean his weapons, but the Professors insisted they'd be better kept in Ozpin's office.

* * *

Qrow held the bladed half of Crocea Mors in his hand, feeling the weight of it while giving it a few test swings. He could see the few knicks and scratches on the dust-lined metal of the arming sword as it gleamed in the florescent lights of Ozpin's office. The man himself sat in his chair, sipping coffee and watching with interest.

His gaze fell to the set of pistols lying on his desk. They were authentic, manufactured in Atlas a few years before The War began, but both models and other versions of them fell under heavy use, favored by officers on both sides. Mr. Arc had informed him that he recovered the Colt Dragoon from the very man who was currently riding around Vale without a cranium. He hadn't a doubt in his mind that this was Salem's doing, one way or another.

"Well, its definitely not some cheap copy. All the notes we have on it match up. The sword, the shield, they're real. The lost father of all mecha-shifting weapons in Remnant." Qrow stowed the sword in its counterpart and laid it on Ozpin's desk.

"Then perhaps," The Headmaster said as he got up, "We should return these weapons to their owner."

"Really? First you bring Lieutenant Lunatic to the school and now you wanna arm him?" The drunkard questioned.

"We won't give him any ammunition. Provided he keeps them in his room unless given permission by myself or Glynda to do otherwise. Considering he's without Aura and his lack of familiarity with this place, I don't think we'll have to worry about him."

Qrow shrugged, knowing there was no point arguing, "Your funeral. But one thing's been kinda bugging me."

"Oh?"

"Crazy or not, those injuries were real. The slash on his chest, the two bullet wounds, the gashes on his leg. If they _were_ life threatening, wouldn't it've unlocked to save his life?"

"Well, it _was_ the Great War. Few people had aura and fewer understood it. The Maidens were the closest things to semblance users back then. People were more concerned with killing each other with guns and swords than protecting themselves with supernatural barriers."

Qrow grunted, "Makes you think about what people went through back in those days."

Ozpin waited for the elevator to arrive, "Yes. It does."

...

Jaune looked up from his handiwork, seeing that he'd patched up quite a bit of his coat, a gift from his twin sisters. He carefully laid it out and let the stitching settle when he heard a knock on his door. "Come in." He yelled.

Professor Ozpin came in, his cane in one hand and the soldier's weapon belt in the other. "Mr. Arc, I believe these belong to you."

"Funny. I _know_ those things belong to me. Because I was buried with them. After I died." Jaune stated flatly. Ozpin exhaled before handing Jaune Crocea Mors and his pistols. He invited himself to take a seat at the desk across from the bed nearest to the door and swiveled to face the boy. "So, how are you settling in?"

Jaune brought out his sword and shield and started going through a few practice techniques. "As well as can be expected, given the circumstances." He checked his shield for any tampering, and put it back on his belt once satisfied.

"I must say, this school is quite expansive. It reminds me of Jefferson's plantation manor. He grew hemp to make paper, cordage, rope. I believe myself and some of my friends in the regiment smoked three or four feet of rope in one night." Jaune recalled as he leaned against one of the beds. Ozpin rested his hands on his cane, "...Right."

The young man crossed his arms in thought, "So, while I'm staying here, am I free to traverse the premises?"

"Of course. You're going to be a student here, you should have a lay of the land before the first semester. Just don't stray off the school grounds. Just remember that some of the non-first years are already returning. Do try to blend in. And be cautious around the cliffs." The Professor answered as he rose and headed to the door, "People have been known to...fall."

"Uh, Headmaster?" Jaune asked.

"Yes?" Ozpin replied.

"When _does_ the semester start?"

"Next week." He shut the door on the way out.

* * *

With Crocea Mors and his guns once again at his side, Jaune walked through the halls of Beacon Academy. He had a basic grasp on the present era's technology, though his new 'Scroll' was quite infuriating. However, there _was_ an 'information terminal' that was 'voice activated'. After threatening the blasted device with his sword, it pointed him to a weapons forge.

If he was going to be a Huntsman and fight the forces of evil, he needed to make sure his instruments of combat were in the best condition possible.

As he walked into the large room, filled with various workbenches, a firing range, practice dummies, an actual forge. He spotted a small counter in the corner with several, various armaments mounted on the wall behind it. Jaune assumed it was a quartermaster's station.

He had no ammunition, so the practice range was useless. He didn't need the artificial dummies for swordplay and he had no funds to purchase bullets. The young man went over to a workbench and pulled up a chair, draping his coat over the back of it.

He set down his weapons and started field stripping his Dragoon. The .44 Third Model was grey/silver, with a brown wooden handle and a dark grey barrel and cylinder. The squareback trigger guard and hammer were colored an off-gold. It's cylinder broke at the top, allowing the gun to fold in half downward when reloading. After removing the cylinder and disassembling the gun, he cleaned everything thoroughly with a steel brush before wiping everything down with an oil cloth. He repeated the process with his Stechkin.

The revolver was a bit more modern than his Colt, with a five-shot cylinder that swiveled sideways. It's snub-nose barrel, along with the rest of it, was a matte black, further enforcing the idea of a weapon for stealthier situations. The grip had textured wooden plates screwed on each side and he used full moon clips to load the gun.

He preferred using the 7.62×42mm necked round SP-4. The cartridge contains an internal piston and a propelling charge, with the stem of the piston against the base of the bullet. On firing, the piston delivers enough impulse to project the bullet from the barrel to an effective range of 25 meters. The piston then seals the cartridge neck, preventing noise, smoke, or blast from escaping the barrel.

Jaune reassembled the cleaned guns and sat back, staring at his handiwork. _'Why are you so calm about this, Jaune?'_ He thought. _'Your family is gone. Everyone you knew, dead. There's nothing left for you in this world.'_ Jaune growled loudly and flipped the table. "WHY!?" He shouted. Why was he here? Why could he not have died on that battlefield in the bloody desert and have that be the end of it? At the very least, why couldn't he have woken up while just one of his sisters were still breathing? What did he do to deserve this?

"Geez. And I thought I had a temper." Jaune spun around, his hand moving to Crocea Mors. Standing in front of him, with one hand up in a shielding gesture and the other on some sort of purse, was a brunette woman, around his age.

She was dressed in a brown sweater, darker trousers with black heeled boots and a corset wrapped around her lower torso. The young woman had a loose belt on that matched her sweater, decorated with bullet casings. She also wore a black buret and dark glasses. "Take it easy, blondie."

It took a moment for Jaune to realize she didn't pose a threat-well, unless she had a gun in the purse. Either way, he relaxed and coughed into his fist.

"Apologies." He started setting the workbench back up as the brunette girl watched him curiously. Once done, he grabbed his coat and made to leave. Perhaps some fresh air would calm his frayed nerves. The girl followed.

"So, any reason for the tantrum back there?" She asked. Jaune shook his head, "Recently I received some... disturbing medical news."

"Oh. You're not dying, are you? It'd really suck if one of the first years died before the semester even started." She said before clicking her tongue.

They came upon a door leading to the court yard and opened it, the setting sun lighting up the sky in swathes of orange and yellow. "I'm Coco, by the way." She told him as she stuck a hand out, "Coco Adel."

Jaune hesitated for only a moment before taking the gloved hand, "Jaune Ar-" He was cut off by a sharp noise, like a high-pitch bell ringing over and over again. Ms. Adel took out her own Scroll and looked at the glowing screen. "Oh, I've gotta go. My teammates and I are heading down to Vale foe some last minute shopping. See you later?"

"Certainly." He nodded and they parted ways, Jaune walking through the courtyard as Coco went back into the building and down a hallway. As the former soldier walked off through the many gardens and courtyards, thinking.

* * *

As the next few days went by, Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch helped him catch up on the last eighty years. Qrow had left to return to Patch, his family's home, to see his nieces off to Beacon. He also made it clear that if Jaune 'tried anything with them', he would not be happy.

The professors helped him study up on the curriculum; Dust, History, Science, Arithmetic. One thing that puzzled him was Aura.

"So, you say that anyone, not just Maidens or supernatural beings, can tap into the energy of their souls and use it as a shield?" Jaune asked as Ozpin tutored him in his dormitory.

"And manifest it into abilities specific to the individual." Ozpin finished.

"...Right..." Jaune set his textbook down and stood up. "Professor, I have come to accept many things over the past week, but you expect me to believe that regular beings could use the power of their 'souls' to defend themselves from injury?"

"I didn't expect you to believe it, Mr. Arc." Ozpin, too, got up and walked over to Jaune weapons that laid on the desk. Jaune watched him pick up his Stechkin revolver and opened the chamber. He then took a single SP-4 cartridge from his pocket and loaded it into the gun. Jaune stiffened as the man walked over and handed him the pistol, which he accepted gingerly. The man calmly rested his hands on his cane and told him, "That's why I want you to shoot me in the head."

* * *

 **Review!**


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